


In The End

by Merkwerkee



Category: Masters of the Metaverse (Web Series)
Genre: I was literally crying when I wrote the ending, gave myself feels dammit, graveyard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkwerkee/pseuds/Merkwerkee
Summary: When his granddaughter goes missing, Bruno moves heaven and earth to try and find her.But sometimes, even the best efforts aren't good enough...





	In The End

Bruno stood, and let the wind tug at his jacket.

When Rhodes - when Zenda - had told them the news about Jaxun, Andi, Aquamarine, and Maxwell - what they’d done, what it had likely cost them - Bruno had immediately begun forming plans. The team had finished the mission. They’d saved the Chronicler - Monday - from the Nightmare, and prevented the wholesale destruction of the Metaverse; now it was time to bring them _home_. Bruno knew, better than most, how often MIA was synonymous with KIA - but he wasn’t going to let his granddaughter go without a fight.

The others had seemed ready to give up as soon as Zenda had spoken to them, laboring under the impression that if Rhodes couldn’t find them nobody could. Bruno didn’t exactly remember what he’d said, but it had definitely been something about how Zenda himself had evaded Rhodes for years, plus a bit about how Antonius Basileus had done something similar. Something about how there were places even Rhodes couldn’t go. Zenda had looked at with something like pity in his eyes before he’d stepped away into the ether. That was fine, he’d already exhausted his resources; Bruno would simply have to try other avenues.

He’d questioned Wells thoroughly; the man had seemed surprised at some of the answers he gave - answers he couldn’t possibly know, but had the ring of truth anyway - but exactly none of it had been what Bruno wanted to hear. He’d moved onto Stone next, and only received more unsatisfactory answers; the cyborg hadn’t been able to sense any of their missing number like he had his brother, and his brother didn’t have any more information to provide.

Bruno had turned to the rest of the group then, questioning each of them in turn, but none of them had anything immediately useful to add. The only ones with experience with the type of Nightmare his grand- their four missing teammates had gone into had gone on that mission; Bruno himself remembered most of the important things from their jump to save TOM, but none of that was immediately useful either. There were leads, some more helpful than others, but they would take time to work and the longer a person was MIA, the more likely they were to be KIA.

Bruno drove the thought out of his head ruthlessly and turned his attention to the remaining pilots.

The next several weeks were a series of grueling, back-to-back missions; after determining that Pierce knew nothing about what had happened, Bruno had pressed him into service manning the pods. The man had seemed familiar enough with the technology to aim them as Crash had, and Zenda before him. Jump after jump into the Metaverse, into crazy and desperate situations and wild avatars, and one by one the leads had fizzled out. Bruno had gone on more missions than anyone else, his desperation growing as one by one the leads slipped from his fingers.

Leibowitz-O'Kelley had showed up during the second week, worried eyes hidden behind dark glasses, and told him that Congress was demanding his return. That they were requesting Bruno, specifically, to explain what had happened. To debrief them on matters Metaverse.

Bruno had barely restrained himself from cursing the irishman out - he’d tapped Kaldegga’s powers somewhat heavily on the jump immediately previous, and had been left with a lingering anger - and had instead responded that a number of pilots were currently MIA and efforts were being made to retrieve them. The thought of abandoning a mission - his _granddaughter_ \- just to make more speeches before old men who couldn’t possibly understand what was happening had made his sleeves smoke as the anger brought Kaldegga’s fire magic to the surface.

Leibowitz-O'Kelley had gone away hurriedly, taking Wells with him and leaving behind a list of known Places of Power, and the missions had continued. 

When the last mission out into the Metaverse had caused the last lead to dry up, Bruno had only gotten more determined. Most of the others had gone at some point, leaving only Dr. Clarkson, Harvin, and Pierce by the time it became clear that they weren’t going to find their missing team members by using the metapods. They’d left the base, then, turning off the power and taking Reese to Baja. The submarine stagecoach had obliged, and had been all set to continue with them on their journey on the mainland.

Bruno had stopped him.

“If they come back in the ship, they’ll most likely end up there,” he’d said, and Reese had settled low on his axles.

“Do you…do you want me to wait for them?” Reese’s voice had been a heart-piercing combination of forlorn and resigned, but Bruno couldn’t bring himself not to ask.

“Yes. If… _when_ they come back, I want to be sure someone is waiting for them.”

Reese had sighed, and Harvin had insisted they at least buy him enough booze to last for a while. So they’d loaded him up and sent him back to Archangel base, and then Bruno had acquired them all passage back to the states.

He’d noticed distantly that they’d put him back on a watchlist - not as a terrorism suspect, but as a person of interest. Just him, though, and none of the other pilots; that had been fine, it wasn’t the first time he’d been forced to evade his own government. Not even the first time he’d had to do it while searching for Andi. It just made things a little more complicated, but he’d taken it in stride.

It’d been almost four months since Zenda had told them he couldn’t find their missing comrades, but Bruno hadn’t been about to give up. Passage into the states turned into passage to the completely ruined town of Jarbridge, Nevada and the Joe’s there. Bruno wasn’t sure if any others had opened and frankly he didn’t care; he had just needed to talk to Hollywood.

Hollywood had turned out to be sympathetic, but unhelpful.

“What did Rhodes say, exactly?” had been his initial response to Bruno’s brusque questioning.

Bruno had told him, and the man had cocked an eyebrow. “My jurisdiction is the Diner, and none of them are here. if Rhodes says he can’t find them, what makes you think I can?”

It wasn’t exactly an answer to the question Bruno had asked, but after several more hours he hadn’t gotten anything more from the man. Hollywood had an infuriating ability to so comprehensively not answer a question he’d leave you feeling like he’d told you everything you’d wanted to know. Bruno had had _years_ of training in how to question people, but Hollywood knew every trick in that book, and a few more volumes besides, and Bruno had gotten nothing.

The only useful thing Bruno _had_ gotten out of him was that Pierce had _also_ escaped Rhodes for years, and knew a lot of people across the Metaverse. Bruno had turned to grill him, only to find the man gone. Where, Bruno couldn’t say; neither Harvin nor Clarkson had seen him leave, and Hollywood had been as mysterious about where Pierce had gone as he’d been about where Andi, Jaxun, Aquamarine and Maxwell were.

Frustrated, Bruno had taken a desperate leap and gone to ARENA, leaving Dr. Clarkson and Harvin behind him. The place was as desolate as ever, but pilots of all shapes and sizes had been lingering in the bone-dry heat under the pillars. Most of them didn’t seem to stay for long - though telling time in the unchanging light was difficult at the best of times - but as others left more would come through gates that stayed open for highly variable amounts of time.

Bruno had talked to as many as he could, anyone who could understand him a fair target. He didn’t tell them everything, of course; the memory of the invasion was still too fresh in his memory and he hadn’t wanted to face another one without Andi at his side, never mind Jaxun, but he’d said enough to get some tongues wagging. Most of them had simply rehashed information he’d already known and acted upon after the disappearance; the only information that was new had been information from before the Nightmare’s destruction.

He’d talked until he was hoarse, and finally a distinctly non-human pilot had taken pity on him.

“If Rhodes can’t find them, they’re not in a metaverse. Not in any of the pockets you sometimes get attaching themselves to other metaverses, either. At least, not in any that are currently attached - they’re part of the metaverse then, see? And if they’re not anywhere, then they’re nowhere, and you can’t get to them anyway. Not with your soul, not with machines, not even through blood.”

The big, red pilot had laid a heavily clawed hand on his shoulder that had been almost as large as Bruno’s face, and while the other pilot hadn’t seemed to have eyes in the traditional sense, he’d felt the compassion in their gaze anyway.

“There’s nothing you can do to bring them back yourself. If they didn’t die when whatever happened to rip them out of reality, they’re as good as dead now; there’s Nothing between everything. Their hearts aren’t beating, they’re not moving or thinking - they’re not _living_.”

Bruno had simply stared at the larger being, refusing to comprehend what they had said, and he would likely have stood there longer if said larger being hadn’t picked him up and tossed him through a portal. Somehow, it had been one to his metaverse; he wasn’t sure if it was luck or if the other pilot had made it happen.

Bruno had had one trick left to try; he hadn’t been able to face going back to Archangel base, so he’d instead gone to one of the old hideouts they’d used and abandoned along the way. Some of the old metapods were there, powered down and even to his eyes of a distinctly older make than the ones Crash had put together. It hadn’t mattered; nothing but the mission did.

Bruno had made one jump, undirected, and had somehow managed to end up exactly where he’d wanted to go anyway. He hadn’t been in Night Watch for more than a few minutes before an avatar of TOM had appeared in the grove of trees with the ninja.

Bruno hadn’t wasted any time. “Andi and the others rescued Monday, but disappeared in the process. Rhodes can’t find them. What do you know?”

TOM had looked taken aback, before a quiet kind of sadness had crept into his features that Bruno refused to acknowledge.

“The Nightmare they were in was clever, as far as Nightmares go. It would have wrapped the Chronicler up in a web of its strongest essence; if they broke through that to bring the Chronicler out, it may have very well…collapsed.”

Bruno hadn’t liked the sound of that.

“Are they alive?”

TOM had blinked.

“I’m not sure that question applies.”

Bruno had wanted to question him further, demand more answers - what did he _mean_ that question didn’t apply? - but the bright white light of the Metaverse had swept him out of Night Watch and back to the ancient, clunky pod he’d been using. One of the fuses had blown inside the machine - or something similar - and he didn’t have the technical expertise required to repair it. He was certain there was anyone left in this metaverse who did.

Bruno had checked the date at that point; a further six months had passed in his absence, both to ARENA and speaking to TOM, and checking one of his safehouses brought the other Prime pilots out of the woodwork. Bruno had told them what TOM and the other pilot had said, feeling their disappointment sharpen into grief, and they’d all spent the night drinking the cheap booze Dr. Clarkson had gone out and acquired at some point. The others had grown tipsier throughout the night, but Bruno had stayed completely sober even as he’d downed glass after glass of whatever the others handed to him. It hadn’t mattered.

He didn’t know who had suggested it, and he frankly didn’t want to know who had arranged it, but less than two weeks later all the pilots were again on a hillside all of them remembered. Four more headstones had joined the first memorial; with no bodies to bury, whoever had arranged things had suggested they bury small caskets of tokens to represent their missing - fallen - comrades. Bruno had carefully avoided looking at the other items in the chests when he’d placed his own in - a Rubik’s cube for Jaxun, a blue silk pocket square for Aquamarine, one of his medals for Maxwell, and a well-worn letter for Andi - but he’d come in full dress uniform for the funeral. His service for theirs; it had only seemed right. Harvin had given the eulogy this time, but he hadn’t heard any of it, eyes fixed unblinkingly on one grave.

If there’d been a wake, Bruno hadn’t gone. Instead, he’d had to go and make some arrangements. People to watch the Places of Power, some kind of report - long overdue - for Congress, and more missions.

Mission after mission, and month after month had unrolled away. The others had given up, but Bruno hadn’t. He’d gone alone, when he had to - though usually once he arrived he never found himself alone for long, pilots from other metaverses ending up in the same places he was to work together on the mission at hand. He’d never met the same one more than once, though. 

It had been Congress, of all things, that had made him slow his frantic search. Patric had reached out, then General Thompson, and while Bruno was more than willing to ignore the strung-out irishman, habit had him listening to the general.

Which had lead him to today.

Bruno looked down as the wind swept through the cemetery again. If the others knew what he’d done, they had chosen not to come today, and that was probably for the best. Today was a day for family, and Bruno had dressed for it. Instead of his uniform, a sober black coat and pants with a white shirt and a tie of some indeterminate color. Before him stood three graves, with oldest on the left and the newest - headstone finished just yesterday, paid for by the government - on the right. _Claire Jaymes 1976-1998, Beloved Daughter_ , said the oldest. On the middle one was inscribed _Lori Jaymes 1951-2018, Loving Mother_ ; Bruno barely blinked, though old wounds twinged deep inside of him at the sight.

It was the last gravestone that he could hardly bear to look at. _Andi Jaymes 1992-2020, Lost But Never Forgotten_. Bruno sucked in a shuddering breath before letting it out slowly, the words etched into hard-wearing granite bringing the situation home to him in a way he’d adamantly refused to allow before. He looked up at the sky before speaking to the emptiness around him.

“A grandfather should never outlive his grandchildren.”

He looked back down at the graves lined up neatly. He’d outlived most of his unit, surviving mission upon mission that had killed other men. More had removed themselves from play by the time he’d made it back to the States, unable or unwilling to cope with civilian life. He’d outlived his parents, and his own grandparents. He’d outlived Lori, he’d outlived Claire.

He’d never expected to outlive Andi.

“I’m sorry I failed to protect you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Claire had died before he’d even known she existed, and Lori had died mere weeks before he’d gotten her letter and come to the hospice to do whatever had been necessary to get her treatment. He’d had precious months - a little more than a year - to get to know Andi. To grow to love her, to shield her from what he could and support her after what he couldn’t. He’d seen her do amazing, impossible things, things he’d never have dreamed of before meeting her.

The cold metal of his bracers pressed against the inside of his wrists as he slowly knelt in front of the graves. Finding her had opened up whole worlds before him, and while he’d been unsure at first of both his place in them and his place with her, by the end he’d grown to appreciate the wonder of it all and the magic in a small form tucked under his arm after a hard fight.

He reached out to press a hand no longer gnarled by age and broken joints against the fresh, sharp edges on the raised lettering.

“Andi, you did it. You finished the mission and saved…everyone. Especially Monday. But, more than that, you made me a better man than I was. You pushed me to do better, be more than I ever thought I could be.” A sad smile half-tugged at his lips. “You taught this old dog so many new tricks and…” he trailed off and cleared his throat. For the first time since he’d met his granddaughter his throat felt uncomfortably tight and he ran a finger under his collar to loosen it a little.

“Well. I’ll…I’ll miss you. You deserved…more.”

Bruno’s voice caught in his throat as he pushed himself to his feet. Missing was such an inadequate word to describe the gaping hole in his chest. He hadn’t known there was anything left there to damage, after Ramsbottom, but with the last of his living family gone he felt…empty. Hollow. Even his words were scraped out and worthless.

Andi hadn’t just deserved more, she had deserved everything. And he hadn’t been able to make sure she got it.

Bruno bowed his head over the three headstones - over his family. Then, turning, he began making his way out of the cemetery as slowly as every single one of his seventy-three years demanded. He would survive this. He would continue the mission. If he couldn’t find Andi alive, he’d bring her home safe to rest anyway.

It was all he had.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is the original mix of another work I posted on this account so technically its almost the same story - I just liked this one too much to erase it when I got the deets about the timeline from the show runner.
> 
> So here you go; the product of a late night and a lot of tears


End file.
